


Of Blue and White Nightmares!

by millygal



Series: Impala's deserve respect ;) [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Impala, Impala Feels, Impala Fic, M/M, Outraged Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-31 10:19:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10897305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/millygal/pseuds/millygal
Summary: This is WAR!





	Of Blue and White Nightmares!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [winchestergirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/winchestergirl/gifts).



> Thank you jj1564 for the quick look through/beta (feel better soon bb! ♥) This is written in response to the HORROR of a Blue&White Fur Lined Impala seen on last night's Counting Cars. I would say though - Pink Elephants first might be an idea. I wrote it years ago and it's ref'd in this current fic.
> 
> Thank you to winchestergirl for the giggles and look through as well ♥

It’s been a long week filled with viscous fluids and no sleep.

They’ve been traipsing back to the motel every night covered in parts of creatures no man should ever have to scrub out of their hair, but finally Dean and Sam can put a pin in this particular hunt.

Las Vegas is meant to be their safe haven away from monsters and mayhem and yet, once again, the peace has been ruined by unscheduled slayage of a creature that even now Dean can’t pronounce the name for.

At least Sam didn’t marry the damned thing.

At least Dean was _allowed_ to chop it’s head off.

Sam slumps down into the rickety chair next to a table that looks no sturdier, and blows out a breath that speaks of being far too old for this crap and needing a proper vacation. “Dude, could we at least try and carve out a window to go away somewhere where we don’t end up splitting skulls?”

Dean dumps his weapons bag on the bed and pointedly ignores Sam’s hiss of disapproval as yet more parts of dead monster come flaking away, littering the bed sheets with scales and flecks of blood. “You’ve got my vote. I’m thinkin’ Alaska, the only thing we might have to kill there is our dinner.”

Sam stands and cracks his shoulders before leaning forward and swiping the mess of leftover entrails off the bed. “Nope. No way. I am not going to wrestle a polar bear for you, and knowing your luck you’d find the only rabid one on the entire continent.”

Dean snorts and nods, knowing if they didn’t have bad luck they’d have none at all. “Right, shower then we’re hittin’ the strip!”

Sam rolls his eyes at Dean but smiles softly and wafts a hand in the general direction of the bathroom. “Fine, fine, but I’m not spotting you your stake money, ‘kay?”

“You know I’m good for it.”

“You’re good for something, all right.”

“Speakin’ of - wanna share my steam?”

*************

Sam spins on the spot and takes in the bright colours and deafening sounds of a city designed to herd you like an animal and breathes deep, enjoying the smell of stale cigarette smoke and whisky. If ever there were a place made for Dean, this would be it. “So, where to first?”

Dean points towards the MGM and smirks. “There’s meant to be an Impala on show in there. I read somethin’ about it in the motel pamphlets.”

“You read?”

“Fuck off.”

Sam lets Dean lead the way whilst appreciating the snugness of his jeans. Curves on curves. Nothing beats a good perv before a night of gambling and something tells Sam that this is going to be a _night_.

Dean steps across the threshold into screeching slot machines and shouting betters all enjoying the holy hell out of spending every last dime they’ve got and he’s about to make some crack at Sam to do with spending his pocket money when he’s hit by the sight of his Baby - in blue and white.

“Damn, would you look at that. Nice paintjob. Holy crap, it was done by Counts Kustoms! Not exactly what I’d do with her, but the decals are cherry.”

Sam, being the taller of the two men, can see over Dean’s head and is about to slam a hand down on his brother’s shoulder, anything to stop him seeing what they’ve done to her interior.

Too late, Dean steps forward and is assaulted by the horror of blue and white **fur** lining the inside of a car that deserves far more respect. “What the ever loving **fuck** is THAT?!”

“Uh, Dean, maybe now’s not the best ti - “

“Screw THAT, Sammy. LOOK! My Baby, they’ve destroyed her. How **could** they!!!”

Sam’s trying not to look too suspicious whilst wrapping an arm around Dean’s waist and physically hauling him away from the car, which he’s still spitting and hissing at. “Come **on**.”

“Fuckin’ disgustin’ piece of crap. That’s Counting Cars off the damned DVR. How dare they, how fuckin’ dare they!”

Sam continues to drag Dean backwards, pulling him all the way out of the casino, smiling awkwardly and nodding at the security guards who are slowly beginning to converge on the front entrance. “Not _now_. We’re about to get our kneecaps removed if you don’t shut **up**.”

Dean’s not even struggling against his brother, simply shaking his head like he’s got a wasp inside his ear and hollering at the top of his lungs. “SACRILEGE!”

Sam makes sure they’re at least a half a block away before he allows Dean his legs. “DUDE! CHILL!”

“Chill, I’ll give you chill, Sammy. You just fuckin’ wait. That pink piece of crap was bad enough but at least he kept her pretty much standard except the damned paintwork. This is just WRONG.”

***************

The next night’s Las Vegas local news report speaks of a missing Chevrolet Impala having been boosted from a casino right in the centre of the strip and neither the police nor the owner of the establishment have any idea how someone could have gotten in, disabled the cameras, _driven_ it out of the front doors, and made off with a car that cost a fortune to have built.

They appeal for any information or witnesses to the crime, and several people who were frequenting said casino the night before are tempted to ring the hotline and give a detailed description of the man who lost his shit when he laid eyes on the car for the first time.

Really though, they all agree with him and if by some miracle he _is_ the perpetrator, they hope she’s being stripped and repainted and had that fucking awful interior removed and is right now destined for someone who knows how to treat a classic.

Fucking heathens.

 

Fin!


End file.
